Margareta Underwood Obituary

All we are, we owe to our mother, Margareta Trautner Underwood. She was, in every sense, a survivor. 

Born and raised in Germany, she came of age during the Second World War, at a time when life had been pared down to the most essential things. On the morning of September 1, 1939, ten-year-old Margareta awoke to a brilliant white glow angled through her small upstairs window—a glow that faded as grim news crackled through the family’s black Bakelite radio. Far to the east, over the Baltic Sea, the skies had lit as the German battleship Schleswig-Holstein opened fire on a Polish fortress. The world had changed in an instant. For the next six years—and long after the war had ended—she witnessed the worst that humanity could inflict, as well as the immense courage it required simply to remain kind. These experiences shaped her, but they did not harden her. Instead, from those years emerged a woman of extraordinary resilience, principle, and gentleness. She taught her children (Johnny, Gloria, Michael, Susan and Cathy). to meet life with courage, humor, and a healthy disregard for obstacles. She nurtured our ambitions, championed every dream we dared to pursue, and raised us with a devotion that made us feel both grounded and limitless. Her children were at the center of her universe, and through her unwavering love she gave us not only direction, but foundation. 

Inside a copper tin stacked among a few books and old photo albums lies a black-and-white photograph of two young people on the edge of a countryside ridge. They are having a picnic. A wisp of hair drifts across her aviator sunglasses. They are tightly framed in the shot, the world beyond blurred and distant, as if time itself wished to honor their closeness. They look unmistakably in love. His head rests on her shoulder; their body language is easy, unguarded. It is a moment they do not want to let go of. You can tell by their clothing that it is spring—he in a summer-issued U.S. Army uniform, she in a short-sleeve silk blouse, linen slacks, and high heels. The trees confirm it too: tender buds just beginning to emerge. And so was the couple’s story. 

Margareta later married that American soldier, Warren Underwood, and with characteristic bravery crossed an ocean to build a new life. She made friends everywhere she went—roofers, mechanics, pool men, postmen, neighbors, old acquaintances, and strangers alike. To her, everyone was special; to everyone else, she was unforgettable. Her vibrant spirit, keen wit, and fierce love of life drew people to her. If you knew her, even for a moment, you knew her uniqueness—her principled nature, her persistence, her luminous otherness. There will never be an imitator. 

Margareta Trautner Underwood, 96, passed away peacefully on November 28, 2025, at 5:36 p.m. in Waxahachie, Texas, surrounded by her loving family. Her departure from this world was calm and comfortable—a gentle release from the earthly ties she had carried with grace for nearly a century. Our mother died satisfied with life. She understood that the world rarely turns out as you want it to—it simply turns—and she taught us to hang on. She did, with remarkable strength. In the end, there were no more puzzles she wished to solve, no unfinished chapters, and she left this world with peace. She closed her eyes, and the thunderous weight of age gave way to the lightness of youth. Margareta’s legacy lives fiercely in the children, grandchildren, and countless friends whose lives she touched. Her spirit, her lessons, and her love continue to guide us every day. 

To the Fourth Floor Staff of Baylor Scott & White Hospital–Waxahachie, Thank you for caring for us when our hearts were heavy. You stepped into our grief with steady hands and open hearts, surrounding us with compassion, care, and quiet kindness. Our family will forever carry gratitude for the tenderness you offered to our loved one—and to us. Your professionalism, your patience, your deep humanity—each became a light in an unbearable moment. For every soft word, every careful gesture, every act of grace: thank you. All of you, for everything

In lieu of flowers please make donations to Tunnel to Towers Foundation 2361 Hylan Blvd. Staten Island, NY 10306 [email protected] or your local animal shelter.